


where you are

by brandflakeeee



Series: wait for me [2]
Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: F/M, mom and dad of the underworld are working on their marriage, persephone is tired of their shit, the fates being cryptic, the same old story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 07:18:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18889819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandflakeeee/pseuds/brandflakeeee
Summary: the queen tries to relax, the king joins. the fates are annoying.





	where you are

The song that weaves it’s way through the underworld is not new. It’s ancient, in fact. Ancient and old as the earth itself. It had sprouted from the ground one hazy afternoon like a bubbling creek. Filling the world with it’s melody until it was eventually forgotten, faded away from memory. Until it was found again by a poet with a lyre in his love for a girl. 

 

That is why it steals Persephone’s breath away when she hears the melody when Orpheus sings. Why it feels as if she’s been physically struck when her lover echoes long forgotten notes. As if they both only needed to be reminded of the song that had once woven through their world. Things have gone so terribly, terribly wrong and the song reminds her of those days long gone. The days when they were young and wild and she was just a country girl, bare feet covered in mud from watering the plants in her mother’s garden. The song feels as if it strikes her heart, coiling deep inside her very bones and searing into her immortal frame like it might find a permanent home. 

 

It does.

 

When her husband gives the lovers a chance, she can feel herself falling. The situation is grim. While she and Hades fall back into love, it’s ripped away from the young lovers when doubt comes in. Would Hades doubt her, were the roles switched? She likes to think he wouldn’t - he’s waited for her, always, here in his underground city. Always so certain she would return even in the autumns when she got on that train kicking and screaming at Hermes the entire way down. 

 

Her man puts up with a lot of her shit, Persephone knows. And she puts up with him. Love should be more than toleration, but that’s what they’d come down to. Screaming and shouting until the entire underground held on tight and weathered the storm their arguments brought. On earth it dragged in great rolling storms, blizzards bearing down on the mortals who had no choice but to wait it out, until the gods were done with their fighting.

 

_ If you hate me that much why did you ever agree to marry me? _

 

She remembers the night he’d shouted that at her. She hadn’t had an answer. Because she doesn’t hate him. Never has. Just hates being  _ suffocated _ and for the past several winters it’s how she’s felt. Suffocated. Caged. Chained. In the beginning she’d been a bright streak of colour in the grey underground. Now she feels like nothing but another dark stain.

 

In the ground beneath the great house she calls home in the winter, there are springs. It’s a guarded secret Hades had shown her once, and for his part he lets her have them as her own little sanctuary. There’s a great big spring that’s cool and refreshing and like a breath of air and the other is bubbling hot, good at easing tension in sore muscles. Persephone frequents them more often than not, but this is her first visit down to them since they’d agreed on trying. 

 

It’s stressful sometimes, being the queen of hell.

 

The springs are there, waiting when she descends the staircase that is carved from the very rock. She isn’t alone, she can feel it. The air is warm and humid from the hot spring but something is slightly off. She groans.

 

“What the hell do you want?”

 

The three fates are there, feet dipped into the cold spring and watching her with their endless stares. She tosses a towel on the ground between the springs, pointedly not making eye contact.

 

“Things are changing.”

 

“Things are shifting.”

 

“Winds have moved direction.”

 

Persephone refuses the urge to roll her eyes. 

 

“If you’re gonna threaten me or my own, say it straight on and be done with it.”

 

“Not a threat. Just an observation.” The middle, Lachesis says.

 

“We could make it a threat.” Atrophos muses.

 

“Would you like that?” Clotho grins.

 

“You three only show up when it suits you. Otherwise you’re spinning off with those yarns of yours.” Persephone remarks, finally leveling her gaze at them. She knows the Fates have purpose, have meaning, but it doesn’t mean they don’t annoy her. Gods and mortals alike bend to their threads, forced to follow. Persephone ain’t afraid of them, and they know it. Sometimes they put up with more of her shit than Hades does. “So what do you want?”

 

“You know your past and where you’ve been.”

 

“You know your now and where you are.”

 

“Want to know your future and where you’ll be?”

 

Persephone laughs and it echoes in the stone cavern.

 

“I don’t need to know. I make my own future.” She sweeps her unruly hair across her shoulder so she can reach the lace ties at the back of her dress. The Fates have a tendency to haunt the underground and it drives her up the damn wall sometimes. They’re better off singing or playing and sound far better doing it than being cryptic harpies. Her fingers loosen the laces of her dress and pull, hard, letting the fabric pool at her feet. Beneath, she’s naked as the day she was born. Unabashed. Unashamed. 

 

When she looks up, two out of the three Fates have gone. Clotho remains for a fraction of a second, long enough to meet Persephone’s sharp gaze.

 

Then, she is finally alone.

 

She steps into the cooler spring, letting the water swallow her whole. Her feet touch the bottom and the water comes to her shoulders; they aren’t very deep. Still she sinks further until the water covers her head and she is beneath the surface. She can still hear their voices harmonized in whispers in her ears.

 

_ “Can’t go back to the way things were.” _

 

_ “Winds of change brush the present past.” _

 

_ “You have more roles to play, sister.” _

 

She surfaces and sweeps her hair out of her eyes. For all the reason this is supposed to be a sanctuary for her, the Fates are shoving their noses in too far for her liking. 

 

“Whatever it is you’ve cooked up this time, I’m not interested.” She murmurs to the empty room, letting the water wash away the smell of smoke and rust from her skin before she rises from the cool water and into the air. Droplets trace rivers down her frame, racing each other to the ground as the air causes goosepimples to break out across her skin. 

 

She’s getting old. And she’s wasted too much time being sour. Pity.

 

She wonders when her hair will go as white as her lover’s. 

 

She steps toward the hot spring, trailing water in her wake. The sharp burn when she dips a foot in makes her hiss, briefly, before she lowers herself into the steaming pool. The shock to her skin reminds her she’s alive, living and breathing in this world below. The tension in her muscles eases as she sinks onto a bench carved beneath the surface until just her head is above the water. Persephone closes her eyes and tilts her head back, allowing this moment to herself. This moment of quiet, of blessed peace. Even if he had moved the factories back and away and the city was quieter, sh still expects to hear the miners toiling away. The works on the assembly line.

 

It seems almost strange without them. 

 

He once admitted (after too many glasses of gin) to her that he built the city to make her happy. The walls, the neons, the electricity that thrums through the earth - all for her. All she wanted was her husband, not some unnatural urban decay beneath the ground. He gave her everything and still she couldn’t be happy - she doesn’t know when she turned into a bitter old hag, but it hasn’t suited her well. She sinks further into the water with a nose of frustration at herself until just her nose is above the surface so she can breathe in the steam that rolls off the rippling water. 

 

He wasn’t innocent either. Bitter old fools, the both of them. Miserable, and determined to make the other miserable for sheer spite and nothing else. 

 

She hopes they’re on the road to fixing that.

 

“You gonna lurk there all night like some creep or do I have to ask ya to join me?” She cracks one eyelid open in time to see her husband emerge from the shadows in the corner, the darkness unfurling to create his physical form. It’s a nifty parlor trick and works well - on everyone except Persephone, who can feel his presence without even trying. He’s still in his suit minus the coat and vest, but his sleeves are rolled up and the top button on his shirt is undone. 

 

“You look like shit.” She adds, noting the smear of soot across his cheek and how his hair is just slightly out of place. He’s been working then, up in the factory. “What happened?”

 

“Nothing that I couldn’t fix.” He rumbles; not once has he taken his eyes off her. “Enjoying yourself?”

 

“Mhm. You would too.”

 

“I’d rather not.”

 

“Get in the damn water, lover.”

 

He does.

 

She watches as he loosens the last of the buttons and meticulously folds his shirt next to her abandoned dress. His slacks follow. For the first time in a while Persephone studies her husband’s frame. She knows every scar on his body intimately, just as well as he knows every freckle on hers. They haven’t seen each other like this in a very long time. Vulnerable. Open. It makes her heart pick up a few paces like she’s nothing but a young country girl again, staring down at the god of the underworld on bended knee. 

 

Gentleman that he is, he sits a respectable distance from her on the underwater bench. She closes her eyes again and leans back to rest her head on the lip of the rock pool. There’s that damned silence again, settling between them like a great big yawn of a canyon. Oh they’ve spoken since she’s arrived for the winter. Stolen glances here or there. But this vulnerable is when it’s hardest to find words to say. She thinks they don’t need them; eons of marriage have made them good at reading each other without words. Words make things complicated. Words  _ hurt _ . 

 

Still, the silence sets her skin prickling. 

 

She’s never been good in the silence. Too much can be taken for granted in it. Assumed. She sits up and cracks her eyes open again - surprised to see that he’s mirrored her with his head tilted back, eyes closed. As if the water is suddenly the most divine thing that he intends to enjoy it. The picture paints a smile on her face briefly. Another rare moment of her husband. Work horse that he is, she knows he hasn’t relaxed in - well, not in the recent hundred years. Too stiff to enjoy a brief pleasure here or there. Besides her. She was his pleasure, his relief from the stress. And since she’d been nothing but a thorn she wonders if he’s ever taken a break. She doubts it. 

 

She sighs heavily, something uncomfortable twisting in her gut. 

 

With quietly, sneaky movements she slides across the bench, barely disturbing the water in her efforts. She lifts a dripping hand to reach out to touch him, but before she can manage his hand snaps up to catch her wrist. He lifts his head to meet her gaze evenly for several long moments and she can see that vulnerability there again. His hand is warm against her skin, so much so that she almost misses it when he releases it just as quickly. 

 

“Think I was gonna slap ya?” She murmurs, and he arches a brow.

 

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

 

“You ain’t given me a reason to this time.” She gives a crooked grin, then nudges his side. “Shuffle forward.”

 

He obeys, and Persephone slides behind him gently, pressed between his back and the spring wall. Her fingers trace wet trails across his skin above and beneath the surface of the water softly at first, then begin to dig into the tense muscles she finds in certain places. A knot here and there and it feels an absolute mess. He sure as hell hasn’t been taking any sort of breaks or rest from work. She can tell by the way he groans when she digs into a particularly deep set knot with practiced fingers. His head tilts forward as she works her way up to his shoulders which seem worse of all.

 

“Atlas himself carries less of a burden than you do.” She mutters. He doesn’t reply, just lets her continue her massage. Her fingers are ruthless against the tension, working until she can’t feel it anymore before moving onto another section. He’s taken on the burden of Hadestown all on his own because he has to, because his queen has been neglecting her duties. Persephone knows it. She’d cherished it at first, simply out of spite. Now she feels pity she’s done this to him. Half this world is hers and the shades and paperwork and all the things included half belong to her too. 

 

That’s what had been so intoxicating at first when he’d come to her in the garden. Offered her half a kingdom and a crown and a throne and all of his heart. How could she refuse? No one had ever paid much attention to Demeter’s daughter, the village country girl who’d just make flowers bloom and stood barefoot in the rain. She’d never thought herself to have much impact on the mortal realm and had been both content and not in her mother’s garden. Trapped in a cage, a beautiful one, but unable to leave and experience the worlds of gods and men as she’d wanted. Hades coming upon her that summer day had been freedom calling, a key to open her gilded cage. She’d said to hell with being an eternal maiden, and run away with him into the fields and let him claim her as his wife. She’d never felt such pleasure, such freedom, such happiness. Over the years it had shifted into something else until Persephone felt trapped in another cage, lined with rust and steel. 

 

She feels better now, with the changed Hadestown. It still needs work. She and her lover still need work. But they’re getting there. 

 

Her fingers still finally, and she leans forward to rest her forehead against his back. Her arms encircle his waist and she’s surprised he doesn’t pull away or even stiffen at the action. She isn’t sure how long they stay like that with the warmth of the water surrounding them, but neither speaks. 

 

This silence doesn’t trouble her; she can hear the steady thrumming of his heartbeat. It’s not an illusion; the king of the underworld has a heart, and this is the proof. She is proof. 

 

He shifts and it catches her off guard, his strong arm reaching around to her. She obliges the gesture, sliding from behind him and shifting to his front to straddle his waist. His hands settle at her sides, hesitant but firm. Her dropping fingers come up to cup his face, tracing the lines up into the stark white hair. He’s still mighty handsome, her lover, her husband. Always has been. 

 

This time it’s Persephone that leans in to kiss him. His hands still hover lightly against her sides as if he’s giving her an out. To change her mind. She doesn’t. She deepens the kiss, fingers curling into his skin. She feels his heart pick up pace and hers jumps up to match. They haven’t been intimate in ages for obvious reasons. Satisfied that she isn’t about to pull away his fingers press bruises into her skin to hold her against him, lips parting to press his luck further. Persephone allows it without a second thought and loses herself in him. His touch, his smell, his  _ everything _ that she’s been silently missing the past few years. It’s like coming home, like the last frost of winter as it thaws in the spring. 

 

The garden is indeed thawing, replaced with a soft warmth that comes from within. It only grows the longer her mouth is slanted against his, his hands freely roaming her skin.

 

“I’ve missed ya, lover.” She murmurs, catching her breath. He presses his forehead against hers in an intimate gesture. 

 

“I’ve been a fool, haven’t I?”

 

“You and I both. Good thing we got a while to fix it. Immortality has its perks.”

 

He grins and leans up to capture his mouth again. She chuckles, melting into him as his hands trace her freckled skin across her back, down her thighs and to her core. After all their time apart their bodies haven’t forgotten one another and for that she’s damned grateful. There’s time to tease later and he seems to read her mind and agree. They both need this - each other, vulnerable and unbound and bonded. 

 

The rest of the world (both mortal and godly) falls away as they lose themselves in each other. Kisses, soft touches and whispers that haven’t been spoken in decades. It’s gentle compared to times before, testing each other and reacquainting themselves. She arches into him, his teeth graze her neck, and after he’s inside her it doesn’t take long before they come undone together. Stars burst in her vision and pleasure rolls through her in waves; the only sound after is their unsteady breathing. 

 

“Balance still ain’t restored.”

 

“Oh, come  _ on _ .” Persephone growls furiously, eyelids snapping open to level at the three women who’ve suddenly rejoined them. Instinctively Hades’ hand tightens on her hip as if to keep his wife from doing anything rash. She bears no shame, and debates briefly about crawling out of the water to wring their necks. 

 

“Leave us.” His voice is low, a warning. Persephone’s nails dig into his shoulders. The three are pressing their damned luck as of late, especially now. 

 

“We bow to no god. Especially not  _ you _ .”

 

“Then bow to me and get the hell out of my house.” Persephone’s lip curls. She hates them. For all the good they do. They’re annoying and have been haunting her more recently. She knows it has to do with the lovers, she just ain’t sure how. Or why. “We don’t want your prophecies.”

 

“An eye for an eye.”

 

“A life for a life.”

 

“Best be prepared to weather the storm.”

 

Persephone moves to rise but Hades’ hands on her waist keep her pinned to him. The three women cackle at her expression. She sweeps an arm across the surface of the water to splash the Fates with a great wave, but they’re already gone before the water can ever touch them. 

 

“I. Hate. Them.” She grinds between clenched teeth. 

 

“An unfortunate need to the realm.” Hades mutters, fingers trailing up her side in an attempt to calm her. She squirms against him her his lips twitch briefly. 

 

“Don’t you dare.” She warns, seeing the look in his eyes. The words are barely out of her mouth before his hands descend against her skin again where it tickles her, almost painfully so. She dissolves into squirming to try and get away from him but he follows, unrelenting and merciless. 

 

Distracting her from their three ghosts, clearly.

 

Laughter bubbles up before she can help it, breathless and light. His own laughter joins hers as he pursues her across the spring pool until Persephone is out of breath and resorts to splashing him in the face to half his advances. He looks utterly surprised and stills at the action, water dripping from his face. 

 

Oh,  _ shit _ .

 

The thought is half formed in her head before his arms snap out to wrap around her and drag her to him, bodies pressed together. Her cheeks are flushed from the heat and so are his, and she grins a crooked, hazy grin. 

 

“You’ll pay for that.” He warns darkly, but her nose brushes his. 

 

“Make me pay then, husband.” She murmurs, amber eyes meeting coal black irises. 

 

“I love you.” 

 

“That ain’t a punishment.”

 

“Isn’t it?”

 

She smiles softly then. 

 

“Nah. Cause I love you too.”

 

His response his a kiss, sealing the promise between them. Renewing the vow. She responds in kind, already aching for his touch again. He chuckles against her mouth, tangling a hand in her damp curls. 

 

“Are we okay?” He asks, tentative and quiet when he draws back to study her face. His thumb traces her jaw, across her lips, tracing the features of her face. 

 

“We will be.” She affirms, kissing his thumb as it passes her lips. “We’ll manage.” Another kiss to his palm. “Though ask Hecate to cancel the rest of your meetings today.” She adds as an afterthought, devilish smile returning. 

 

“Why?”

 

Her body presses against his again warm and wanting. 

 

“Cause the queen demands her king’s attention.”

**Author's Note:**

> i wasn't super happy with this, but i know if i keep going over and over it it won't get better. so i hope you enjoyed! i'm obsessed with these two, honestly. also the fates are actually a bit important to where i'm taking this series, they just show up at literally the worst times.


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